Blood Runs Deep
by Cynthia Zharya
Summary: "You know you'll like it, don't you?"   AU, John/Dave Moirallegiance.


"You know you'll like it, don't you?"

He feels his back pressing against a wall and the point of some sort of staff digging into his abdomen.

"It'll be much better than you living out your pointless existence and wasting resources, don't you think? Being... _culled_?"

The other voice, similarly harsh and with a sociopathic lilt, came from another direction. There is a short scuffle where the two females snap over dominance of the situation. His heart is hammering, the accelerating rhythm pounding in his ears and almost blocking out what was being spoken to him- but he keeps his face blank. He will _not _be spending these moments, should they be his last, begging and groveling like an animal to these trolls.

"Stop fighting like rustblood peasants, you twwo!" A different voice snaps, male and severely irritated. There is a yelp and suddenly the three points of a trident are stuck under his chin, hovering over his jugular. "Filthy land-dwwelling _human_ . Lusus probably gavve up on you, right? Nevver mind your lusus- never mind the culling drones- let's rid the troll race of one more impurity ourselvves!"

_Bro wouldn't do that, _he idly thought- learning to easily distract himself helped loads, especially during these sort of degrading rants from the ruling race. _He'd be here kicking troll butt if he weren't dealing with the troll trouble on his end. Bro'd be pulling off something real smooth-_

He lowered his head and let his hair (blonde, he was told) fall over his closed eyes. The shades he always had on were snatched away by the trolls, and he felt uncomfortably exposed without them- darn.

No matter. Play it smooth, Dave. Smooth.

"Perhaps I _would_ like that." He started mildly, earning himself a ripple of disdainful approval from the trolls. Except one who was yapping about cuttlefish or something, but the trident-wielder quickly shushed her. "But I'm quite happy with my pointless existence right now, so I'm not sure why you'd waste your time on me when nobles obviously have much better things to do? Your schedule makes me a little suspicious, really-"

He doesn't see the blow coming. Suddenly he was on the ground (on his side) and his left cheek stung and his ribs are shrieking in protest after an extremely forceful kick. Which didn't stop.

"DISRESPECTFUL LOWBLOOD! Kill him. KILL THE NONBELIEVERS! He's a REDBLOODED human, HE SHOULD BE KILLED!"

The second female who spoke roared gleefully and he felt the tip of the staff plunge into his arm with an explosion of pain; he firmly willed himself to keep silent and refuse the trolls the pleasure of hearing him in pain- but nonetheless, the action prompted a pained hiss before he can stop himself.

He blanked out the pain of the continued beating, distracting himself with another thought-the staff belonged to the female troll who had _firs t_spoken, not this one-

Another scuffle; the violent one was restrained and the two women arguing over the staff were torn apart. Dave couldn't help but frown a little when the discussion brought in his blood color (again), but the trolls didn't seem to notice in their raging discussion over whether to kill him, and if so how big a mess to make out of it. It's disconcerting, the things they considered. It's unfair, the reasoning behind their consideration in the first place. What did having red blood have to do with _anything_? He was certainly just as capable as any troll in-

The girl who first spoke did so again, her breath warm in his ear as she crouched over him.

"You're a bit blind too, aren't you?" She remarked, ignoring the heated debate behind her. He can almost imagine the maniac grin on her face- she must be grinning. No one can sound that amused, happy to be causing such hurt- and not be grinning. "Technically, if you're blind you _really _should be culled."

After all, he couldn't see the blow coming. He couldn't see at all.

But something about the sentence, or perhaps the way it was said, sent a cold stab of dread into his heart. The troll inhaled deeply, before reaching for his eyelids- with a soft cry, his hands flew up to cover his eyes and swat her prying fingertips away.

"N-no!"

The pain from the gesture was irrelevant. He could feel blood seep from the wound in his arm and trickle down onto the ground, but that was irrelevant too.

She can't see them. She mustn't.

The troll giggled. "Silly human. You can get away with some things such as your little fix, but I'm afraid being a candy-blood on top of that certainly won't do! We're in a similar boat, and I feel compelled to help you, but I really haven't been having much fun lately. Helping you won't change that at all, but perhaps getting Vriska to be a little more creative with her dice-throws might~"

He didn't react, just curled up further into himself. So it had really come down to this? He was going to die like a beast slaughtered for the thrill of the hunt?

He really hadn't done much in his life, with his handicap and all...not that the trolls would let him do anything with his life...but perhaps...he guessed...he probably wasn't worth all that much.

If he was worth anything at all. Maybe the trolls were right and he really was just a pointless little-

"Hey! You there!"

Great, another troll come to see the show?

"Back off! I'm a purple-blood, s-see?"

"Wwhat on earth, wwhat're you going around showwing your blood for? Are you sure you're a-"

"Ooh! Sir! I say, that's a great idea!"

_Feferi!_"

There were loud protests, but they were shouted down by the cuttlefish-girl, who went along with the newcomer and _ordered _the other trolls off. The troll crouching over him harrumphed indignantly and stood up away from him. From under the cover of his hands, his eyes opened in disbelief- not that it did a lot, of course.

"But your highness!" Trident-wielder exclaimed, his voice getting more distant along with the flurry of retreating footfalls.

The newcomer bent over him.

"Are you alright?"

He can't quite believe that someone is inquiring after his well-being at this time, so he settled with a curt "go away". In retrospect, not the best choice; but his head was dizzy and confused with the sudden turn of events. Surely this was some sort of trap to exploit him again?

"H-hey, are you alright? Your arm looks pretty bad..." The voice softened and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. Strangely, he smelt paint along with the familiar metallic tang of blood.

"I'm not- you don't- just- never mind about me." Shrugging the hand off, he got onto his hands and knees and groped around for his shades, eyes tightly shut once his own hands fell away from his face.

"What're you looking for?"

"My shades." He resisted the urge to repeat his _go away_ . The newcomer wasn't doing anything to him, and he didn't want to risk anything. Not in this condition. His breath came in ragged gasps and his arm was throbbing as he rested part of his weight against it to reach it blindly with his other hand. But he really should find his shades. Bro had worked very hard to scrap together enough to get this pair for him. He might not get a replacement anytime soon.

"Uuuh...they're just over there, see? Um, if you'd opened your eyes- wait, they're bleeding!"

...fffffffttt. Of all the bad things that had happened to him today-

"it's nothing." He quickly flinched back and rubbed at his eyes, feeling the thick liquid drip all over his fingers. He loathed to let the newcomer see, but he was bleeding all over the place to begin with so he reckoned that blood-chaste discrimination probably wasn't too much to worry about.

"Nothing? It's not- what's wrong with your eyes- let me see, maybe I can-"

No, no, no! Not the eyes!

Bro could fake all the sympathy he wanted and Dave himself could pretend to be totally unbothered with it like a typical coolkid, but he knew that his eyes were horrible and ugly and worst of all, that hideous color the trolls all hated. That _he _hated. The first, last and only color he remembered before the darkness, the color of his candy-crimson blood.

"N-no! Go _away_ !"

He lashed out blindly, but in his weakened state the newcomer easily caught his hands and suppressed them from further movement. "You're _hurt_;" The newcomer insisted, not letting go even as Dave edged back even to the point of starting to cower (yes, he was willing to risk uncoolness to get as far away from this creepy person as possible, that was just how desperate he was) "Just let me see. I promise I won't...um...I don't know what you're afraid of actually. But I promise I won't do...or say...or be...or _whatever_ . You get the point. It's okay."

"What's your problem? You don't even know me!"

"Doesn't matter, I know you now. You need help." The newcomer insisted, loosening his grip on Dave's wrists. "...and you're just like me, anyway." Dave sensed a rustle and heard tearing fabric, and then felt his staff-wound being bandaged up. Still apprehensive, he nervously gripped the mysterious person's arm. The newcomer let out a noise as Dave's fingertips brushed against something sticky like blood.

The consistency was not quite that of blood. Suspicious, he raised his fingers to his nose and inhaled; along with the smell of blood, something sharper and more chemical wafted into his nostrils- paint?

"Perhaps I'm not quite the purple-casted one after all."

"paint. seriously, you give the illusion of a different blood color by using _paint_ - no, don't!-" Dave yelped as the newcomer reached forwards again as he was off-guard, letting out this totally uncool whimper as he felt an eyelid raise.

The newcomer was silent as he let go, and instinctively he flinched back against the wall. Too lame. This sucked.

"...it's not so bad, really." He felt the newcomer shift and prop up his head, before beginning to tie something over his eyes. More fabric. It's unsettling; he's not used to this sort of treatment and he wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't let himself relax anymore. Being off-guard was a major mistake. This probably won't last.

"Not so bad?" He hollowly echoed the newcomer's words. "Nah, don't try to placate me. I'm used to the truth, really. My eyes suck."

"Stop it with the self-hate. It's not- it's not good for you. Jegus knows we all need a little optimism in this place. It'll be okay, alright? Even if all your life, you've been shunned and abused and berated and told over and over and your absolute lack of worth-"

Dude, what was this guy thinking. He wasn't some stray puppy with a sob-story background.

"Somewhere out there, there's a place for you, I'm sure. I'm not exactly high-casted material myself, and I've been able to walk out in the streets without getting stuff hurled at me- you see, there's hope!"

Craaazzy. Newcomer was craazzy. Might as well zone out right now and see if he bleeds to death while the newcomer rants.

But nonetheless, Dave felt the soft grip on his arm as the newcomer slipped his shades on for him and then attempted to help him get up. Dave immediately reached up to grip his shades, exhaling in relief as he felt the familiar smooth edges and darkened lenses that obscured his defect. As crazy as this person was, he seemed sincere, Dave guessed.

"..so don't lose faith in yourself, alright? The trolls don't know anything. No one deserves to be culled."

"Not even the poor helpless crippled likes of me?" Dave deadpanned back, his voice dripping with sarcasm which the other person didn't seem to catch.

"No! Of course not! Don't think that way! You're not poor or crippled and definitely not helpless!"

"Sheesh, I was _joking_ -"

"You can't let anyone step all over you like this! I'll help you back- where do you live?"

Probably human then, a troll would have used the term 'hive'. Even though a lot of hints were dropped already, Dave still felt a little better as he allowed himself to accept that this newcomer would not be discriminating against him suddenly any time soon.

"Why're you doing all of this? We don't know each other."

"We do now. Hi, I'm John! And you are?"

"...Dave. This is stupid."

"Don't all friendships start like this?"


End file.
